Archive for the ‘Real Life Adventures’ Category

What’s more disgusting than a hairball or a spit-soaked catnip mouse? How about regurgitated grass? Whenever it gets warm out, my cat takes to trolling the backyard. He’ll sniff the dandelions, wrinkle his nose at the roses, and avoid the tulips entirely. But when it comes to grass, he’ll be all over it like white on rice. He’ll sniff it, chew it, swallow it…and then a few hours later, throw it up on my nice hardwood floor. Sometimes I notice the combination grass / stomach acid right away, but if I don’t I can rest assured that I’ll step in it the next morning.

Here’s what I’d do if I were in charge of Major League Baseball: shorten the season. Don’t get me wrong, I love baseball as much as anyone. It’s just that I have no desire to see a summer sport played in 40- and 50-degree temperatures. Cities like Chicago, New York, and (gulp) Minnesota suffer through a month or two of chilly baseball to start the season, and there’s no reason for it. If it were up to me, I’d start the baseball season May 1 and wrap it up by the end of August. The playoffs would start Labor Day weekend, and would continue throughout September. Of course, major league franchises would never agree to such a money-losing scheme, even though the status quo crowds fans into icy stadiums for months on end. I guess there’s a reason I’m not commissioner.

If I was still in school, I’d be in the 25th grade, and while there are many reasons I’m happy to be done with school (i.e. no more student loans), there is one thing I miss: recess. As a working adult, I have precious few opportunities to play outside. That’s one reason I started riding my bike again this morning. Earlier this year, I vowed to resume running outside by the middle of March, and vowed to keep it up until the middle of November. Although I didn’t make it to the park this morning, I did manage to ride to the train station on my bicycle. Unless it’s raining, snowing, or unbearably hot, I plan to continue riding for the next eight months. Who knows, maybe I’ll make it past the train station and continue cycling all the way to the office. A guy can dream…

In my head, my basement is already finished. It has a tankless hot water heater, a state-of-the-art boiler, a full set of copper pipes, dozens of dimmable can lights, an attractive drywall ceiling, a waterproof and mold-resistant wallboard system, an attractive floor that looks very much like hardwood without actually being hardwood, enough insulation to keep the space warm in the winter, and a central air conditioning system that keeps the house cool in the summer. In reality, my basement has none of those things. What it does have is a bathroom, a sump pump, and a series of cracks that have been sealed against the elements. Baby steps, I suppose.

Taken literally, this is a pretty gruesome punchline. The martini-sodden woman on the left wishes she and her friend could “cut and paste men?” As in, jab them repeatedly with sharp objects and then dress their wounds with Gorilla Glue? Is Real Life Adventures trying to fill the horror void left by the recently departed Saw franchise? I doubt it, but I can’t think of how else to explain the dialogue in this strip. In terms of the classic Microsoft Office protocol, it makes little to no sense.

Given the state of the economy, now is probably not the time to be complaining about vacation days. Some people have paid time off but aren’t allowed to take it because they’re asked to do the work of two (or three) people. Others are paid by the hour and can’t afford to take it easy. Still others are forced to take furlough days that cut into their paychecks. And let’s not forget about the legions of unemployed folks who would love to have less free time on their hands. But for those workers who are in a position to take vacation days, I have the following suggestion: space them out throughout the year. Take as many four-day weekends as possible. You’ll go back to work refreshed, but you won’t have to dig through a monstrous pile of paperwork upon your return.

Forget dogs, my cat is terrified of vacuum cleaners. Whenever he sees one, he runs the other way. That could be because he’s bigger than the average canine, but it could also be because he knows what vacuums are capable of. Namely, they’re capable of sucking up the granules that gather around his litter box. Why should that matter? Well, I’m convinced my cat tracks his litter around the bathroom, into the hallway, onto the bed sheets, and into every other corner of the house, as a means of protest. By cleaning the stuff up, I’m rendering him silent…for a few hours, at least.